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N 9602 N.W. 13 St. Miami. FL 33172 TOLL FREE 800-792-0100 Republican through my childhood, and not having thought through social issues at all when I was at Yale." Moore was speaking in his office, on the grounds of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and, becoming more contemplative, he continued, "Of course, people have asked me how someone of my background could have become so involved in the kind of min- istry I chose to do. I can understand why it must have looked inconsistent to them. They were thinking of the fact that I had some money. And dur- ing my time in Jersey City that was still something of a conflict with me. F or instance, here you were, a priest in a place like that, with people coming to your door and saying they didn't have enough to eat. You had money in the bank. And if you didn't then your father did. You could probably give them a check for five thousand dollars. But, obviously, that was a no-no. That would have ruined everything. If you were going to give money away -which I did-you had to do so in other ways, anonymously. But if you were a follower of Christ-St. Francis of Assisi was one of my role models, and Dorothy Day was one of my hero- ines-and yet had all this money it presented a very deep spiritual and moral problem. I wasn't a saint, and I had many family obligations. So where should I make my stand? I worked out a rationale whereby I saw myself as a sort of trustee of the income I had from my inheritance, and would live at whatever level I thought was appro- priate-fairly modestly, compared with the way I could live. And what- ever money I could give away over the years I did. So that's the rationale I came to, and I don't feel self-conscious about money anymore. I try to respond to the command of the Bible. I'm strongly drawn to people who are at the bottom of the heap, and I want to help them do something about it. I've never been able to get off that kick, and it has led to all the struggles I've been involved with." M OORE'S ministry in Jersey City ended in 1957, when he was appointed dean of Christ Church Ca- thedral, in Indianapolis. He welcomed the appointment, as an opportunity to see whether he could do in Indianapo- lis some of what he had been doing in Jersey City. Both places had simi- lar inner-city problems; but Christ Church Cathedral was a larger and wealthier parish than the Jersey City church, causing Moore to feel that he APR.IL 28, 1986 would be able to attack the problems in Indianapolis from a position of greater strength. He wasn't sure, however, whether it would all work-whether the Cathedral would be comfortable wi th his socially activist ministry, whether he would be able to "lead the parish into becoming responsible to the inner city." Before going to Indianap- olis, Moore knew almost nothing about the city, except that it was the venue of an annual motor-racing ex- travaganza. He had no idea that the Cathedral was a stronghold of Hoosier and Episcopal conservativism. The program he was invited there to administer was designed to involve the Church in the total life of the city, and it had the full support of Moore's superior- John P. Craine, the Bishop of Indianapolis. But Craine spoke only for himself and a minority of his pa- rishioners. As far as the rest were concerned, social action was no part of the Church's business-the Church's only duty was to minister to the spiri- tual needs of its members. The more liberal he had been in Jersey City, the better Moore had been liked. But Indi- anapolis, he discovered, wasn't Jersey City. While a minority of the parish- ioners in Indianapolis applauded his liberal activism, the conservative ma- jority felt betrayed by it. Some with- drew their financial support, some left the Church altogether, and others muffled their criticism of Moore's pro- gram only because they were confident that it wouldn't last. Such members, he said, "hampered the financing of any effort in the social outreach of the Church. " Part of their resistance sprang from Moore's support of the civil-rights movement. He recalls, "At a climactic meeting I had with the vestry, one member got up and said, 'I am told on good authority that you are an under- cover agent for the N.A.A.C.P., that you are here to subvert Christ Church Cathedral in Indianapolis.' That was a typical response to the work I was doing. I knew I had to take it easy and be careful. But sooner or later the chips were down-especially when I tried to integrate the parish and to give it a feel for the rough-and-tumble of urban problems. For instance, there wasn't any way I could avoid preach- ing a sermon on what had happened in Little Rock. And when I said what I had to say there was an enormous reaction. In the midst of all this ruckus, Mr. Eli Lilly himself stepped into my office one day. This pharma- ceutical magnate was the senior war-